Sober
by skwirelygurli
Summary: Post BIOTA. A collection of Klaine oneshots from BIOTA to season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**Sober, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. This is a tag for **_**Blame it on the Alcohol**_**. Remember to review!**

Kurt was still in line when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the caller I.D. It was Blaine. Despite his proximity to the cash register, he decided to pick it up. Now if only it was that easy to decide what to say. Last time he had talked to Blaine, they weren't necessarily on the best of terms. But that's when Blaine was having an identity crisis. Still, it was better to play it safe. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Blaine sounded amiable. The sound of the faucet being turned off was evident in the background. As Blaine pulled a paper towel from the dispenser he continued. "Can we talk?"

"Hold on." He approached the counter and smiled as the cashier asked what he wanted. "Medium drip please."

As the cashier rang up his purchase, Kurt returned to his phone call. "Sorry about that."

Blaine could hear the register close and Kurt thanking the lady for his change. It was pretty obvious where he was. "Kurt, are you in line at the Lima Bean? Getting my coffee?" He opened the bathroom door and scanned the room for Kurt. There was a bulky man blocking his view, but he was sure that he saw the top of Kurt's head by the front counter.

"Rachel left with this stupid grin on her face." Blaine saw the head, most likely with the rest of the body, leave the counter. He watched as Kurt headed for the sugar. Yup, that fabulous body of his was still in tact.

"Do you think we could talk about that?" Blaine felt his voice crack as he walked up behind Kurt. He had the phone glued between his head and his shoulder, listening to the conversation while balancing his own coffee and stirring sugar into Blaine's. He had this odd urge to scare him, for his face was far to priceless when he was scared. Blaine had found that out when David and Wes had crashed their musical marathon and begged them to watch some horrific movie they had rented off the internet. Kurt spilling his popcorn was one thing. Spilling his coffee could lead to some serious bodily injuries. Not that Blaine wouldn't be happy to play nurse for him. But he was thirsty.

Kurt turned around. "Let's end this call and talk like normal people." He handed over Blaine's coffee and unglued his phone from its position. They both ended the call.

"Normal people text more than they talk." Blaine led the way to their usual table. He liked the way that sounded in his head. It was _their _table. Never mind all the other patrons that probably sit there. They weren't nearly as important.

"Neither of which we were doing." He pulled out his chair. "What did you want to talk about?" He sat down and crossed one leg over the other. Might as well get comfortable. This time he planned on Blaine not escaping halfway through the conversation. Kurt Hummel would hold his tongue. Not literally. That'd be ridiculous.

"I want to apologize. You were right. I'm one hundred percent _gay_." At the word gay he sat with a defiant thunk in his seat. Not like he was defeated, but one that put enough emphasis on the word.

"Are you apologizing for being gay or for kissing Rachel?" His finger traced the rim of his coffee. His eyes made contact with the table.

"The kissing one. My first kiss was with a girl." He wrinkled is nose in disgust. He couldn't believe it. An entire first kiss, wasted. Now he knew how Kurt felt. He took a swig of his coffee. Then Kurt took the opportunity to speak his mind.

"So was mine." Blaine choked on his coffee. Thankfully none spewed over to the other side of the table. Once he swallowed and Kurt was certain that he was okay, he finished his thought. "Remember how I told you there was a first kiss that didn't count?"

Blaine nodded his head. Realization dawned on him. "I was drunk and confused. Why'd you kiss a girl?" He set his coffee aside to lean forward. It was a rather personal topic for a coffee shop.

Kurt mimicked his posture. His legs uncrossed themselves at their own will. "I tried to convince my dad I was straight. She tasted like root beer."

"Better than alcohol." Blaine leaned back again and took a long sip of his drink. He had thought about it before, recently in fact. He thought his first kiss would taste coffee.

"I do have one question though." Blaine stopped drinking. Kurt had already dropped one bomb today causing him to choke. He was not about to re-experience that. He was sure his throat was already burnt from the last episode. Kurt took an oddly prolonged sip at his coffee. Blaine's eyes pleaded him to continue. Kurt swallowed, and Blaine watched as the coffee slide down his throat. When it had reached a safe point, Kurt began speaking again. "Didn't you say you sucked at romance?"

"I do. Did you not just witness the utter collapse of my relationship with Rachel? It lasted less than a week." Kurt knew that Rachel Berry was high maintenance. Even as his friend she had thought about herself over him. She knew Kurt liked Blaine. She knew that Blaine was gay. You'd think a child of two gay men would respect that kind of thing. Instead she kissed him to prove a point. And then she ran off to write a song about it.

"So? For the time being, you still went on a date with her. In costume no less." Rachel had called it a date. Blaine had called it a date. But Blaine and Kurt had gone out numerous times and they had never been labeled as _dates._ Had he asked, would Blaine been ready to label it as such like he did with Rachel?

"Look," Blaine started, scratching the back of his neck. Kurt knew it wasn't because it itched. He ignored Blaine's nerves. "Rachel is expendable. Jeremiah, he was expendable." Kurt tried to conceal a giggle at this. For some reason he was overjoyed be the fact that Jeremiah didn't mean that much to Blaine anymore.

"You, oh boy Kurt, you are in no way expendable. You're-" Blaine struggled to find the right words. Then he found them and began to sing. "You're irreplaceable."

Kurt made no effort to hide his now obvious laughter. "You did not just go all Beyonce on me."

Blaine shot him a sly grin. "I only speak the truth." He placed his hand over Kurt's. His hand was warm from the cup he had been holding. That wasn't the only reason Kurt felt like he was on fire.

"Blaine?" He turned his hand around so that their palms connected. Kurt could've sworn their heart lines synced.

"Yeah?" He wasn't feeling sleepy. In fact, he was wide awake. That didn't stop him form propping his head up with his other hand.

"How much do you remember from the night you were drunk?" The hand under Blaine's chin kept him form slamming his head against the table. Some things were not worth remembering.

"I remember kissing and karaoke. And then I wound up in your bed with your dad in the room. He was so loud." His head slide down his hand and he rubbed the side of it.

"Yeah. You can't sleep over again." Blaine frowned, placing his hand back on the table. Kurt lifted it in the air. He interlaced their fingers. Blaine felt the fingers on his other hand follow suit. Here they were, two openly gay boys in a restaurant holding hands. As just friends. "Unless I tell my dad first. So no more getting drunk, m'kay?"

"I think I'm permanently sober. The only drunk I'm getting is love drunk." He waggled his eyebrows. The silliness of the moment was lost and Kurt felt Blaine's grip on him tighten. He didn't mind. He just squeezed back.

"Good to know," he squeaked out. Blaine's eyes were piercing into his. He would've said that Blaine was trying to stare a hole right through him, but the smile on his face begged to differ. He was staring right at him. They held this stare for a good few moments.

"Oh, and Kurt?" He pulled out of his reverie.

Still not focused, Kurt mumbled for him to go on.

"Can I be the small spoon next time?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Applesauce, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Reviews are welcome as always.**

I was sitting on top of my bed, legs criss cross applesauce. Kurt was next to me, legs in the same fashion. My knees were pointed in his direction. He was at a tilt, his right knee scraping against mine. It was rocking back and forth ever so slowly. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. I glanced up at him. He was still staring intently at the two DVD covers he had in front of him. In his left hand was _Sleepless in Seattle._ His right hand was curled around a copy of _When Harry Met Sally. _

You see, Kurt had made it a movie night tradition to pick an actor, or actress, from a hat and watch a movie that they starred in. Last time he picked Zac Efron out of the hat. I'm still not sure how that name got put in there. I'm thinking someone kidnapped our hat and put new names in there. For a moment I feared that we'd have to watch High School Musical. Then Kurt pulled out _Hairspray _and I let out a sigh of relief. How could I have ever doubted the awesomeness that is Kurt?

"Hey Kurt, are you hungry?" He set the movies down on the bed and turned his attention towards me. He scooted closer to me. This time I Knew it was on purpose as our knees bumped.

"Why as a matter of fact," he leaned in. Oh, so he was hungry. Suddenly I felt very famished. And I was craving Kurt. His stomach gurgled. "I'm starving." He propelled himself off the bed, pushing past me. It would've been much easier for him just to back off the bed. I could've mentioned it, but I was too busy thanking the other-worldly spirits for giving me such a view.

We headed into the deserted kitchen. Opening the fridge, I found a container of leftovers. I pulled it out and peered inside.

"Summer pasta salad," I remarked, sniffing it to make sure it was still good. It was.

"But it's not even spring yet." Kurt pretended to scoff. I split the dish between two plates. "You such a rebel." He faked a swoon. His back hit the counter in doing so and he jumped forward. I chuckled as I finished preparing dinner.

"Me? My parents brought it home." I handed him a fork. We stood at the fridge, trying to decide what to drink. If my mom were to walk in on us doing this she'd probably yell at us and say we were letting all the cold out.

"Where are your parents anyway?" Kurt finally decided on the pitcher of iced tea. I opened the cupboard to grab the cups. It seemed that all of the lower shelf cups were in the dishwasher. There were some on the top shelf that I could barely reach. I stood up on my tip toes to get them. My fingers graced the rim of the cup when I felt a familiar set of arms wrap around my waist. I was hoisted up, only for a second. The cups were much easier to grab now.

Kurt let my feet back on the floor again. I set the cups on the counter in front of me. He moved to retrieve the pitcher. I clasped his hand, making it momentarily impossible for him to escape. Kurt slipped free and got the iced tea. I felt my shoulders slump. Then his hand returned to my waist. I made an effort to stand straighter.

"They're in their office." I held the cup for him as her poured.

"They're doing work on a Friday?" He placed the pitcher on its rightful refrigerator shelf. We carried our meals back to my room.

"You could say that." I nudged my door open farther. "But I'll tell you one thing. They're not doing paperwork."

"Kinky." He managed to make the word have two syllables instead of one. We sat down on the bed, careful not to spill anything.

I looked down at the DVDs. Kurt had said that we were like Harry and Sally. Blaine hadn't seen the movie recently, but if his memory didn't fail him, didn't they have an awkward moment of their own? He knew Kurt had apologized and accepted his own apology. But there was one thing he didn't apologize for. Not yet anyway.

"I'm sorry you had to meet Biva." He swallowed what he was chewing and cocked his head to the side. He looked like an adorable little puppy dog.

"Excuse me?" He set his fork down.

"A Biva. Y'know Blaine plus diva. Biva." Nick had called me it once when we were studying for a math test. I couldn't figure out for the life of me how to do a problem and I started freaking out. At the time I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then I thought about it. I mean, what else could it mean?

"Right." He picked up his fork again and stabbed at a cherry tomato with it. "So what exactly were you a Biva about?"

"I compared you to Karofsky. Which was completely wrong of me. You are in no way like that cretin. I was just angry." He wasn't saying anything. That may be due to the fact that he was still chewing. Kurt had the manners to not talk with his mouthful.

"Besides," I added leaning in, carefully to avoid getting my dinner all over the front of my shirt, "you have much better fashion sense."

His cheeks were tinged red. "I accept your apology. And I wasn't exactly in the position to tell you who you could or couldn't date. So I apologize for being a killer Karofsky."

"I like the sound of that." Then again, I also like the sound of our names together. Kurt. Blaine. If you say it fast enough, it sounds like dynamite. Kur-blaine! Okay, so it's some really messed up dynamite. But now every time I hear the word _kerblam _I'm going to think of him. Not that I don't think about him enough as it is.

We popped in _When Harry Met Sally. _Our dishes were set aside on the floor. He curled around me, propping his head up to see the movie over my shoulder. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He drew his eyes away from the screen when he caught me staring.

"What? You _said _you wanted to be the little spoon." Oh. So he hadn't forgotten that part of our conversation. At least he kept his promise.

The movie was over far too soon. I held up the second movie. We did have time for another. And if it got too late, Kurt could certainly spend the night. But first, I needed to go to the bathroom.

I returned to my room to find Kurt talking to my mom. She held the dirty dishes in her hand. There was a freshly open bag of Lays sitting next to him.

"Thanks Mrs. Anderson. I think I'm just going to let the chips drop where they may." Something was telling me they weren't talking about the sea salt and vinegar chips.

My mom turned and saw that I was standing in the doorway. "As long as it's not the carpet."

"Ready for Sleepless in Seattle?" I loaded the disc into the player. Kurt nodded and moved the chips to make room for me.

As the previews played Kurt coiled his legs around mine. He sighed and settled his head above mine. It was a perfectly romantic moment.

"I really liked your mother's bathrobe."

Then again, maybe not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Papercut, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Reviews are love!**

One should keep in mind that while working on a laptop it is best to repeatedly delete your browsing history. It also helps to be sitting at a distance from everyone else, preferably against a wall so that a friend does not come up behind you and see what page you are on. Finn learned this the hard way. I however, was smarter than my brother.

I clear out any evidence of the quiz websites that I've been on. Normally I go for the ridiculous quizzes. Like yesterday during my free time I took the _what breakfast food are you_ quiz. I was fruit. This struck a chord with me. In particular the f chord. F standing for fail, not fruity. Just because I'm gay does not automatically make me fruity.

Recently I've been more interested in those teeny bopper relationship quizzes. _How kissable are you? _It said I'm incredibly kissable. Yet somehow I've managed to only kiss two whole people. One of which was the opposite gender and tasted like root beer. The other was my bully. If I'm so kissable, why do I have no luck when it comes to actually kissing somebody? Why can't Blaine find me kissable? Okay, so maybe he kissed me on the cheek when I left his house yesterday. I should've cheated and turned my head at the last minute. Then it would've been BAM, hello Kurt's lips. Oh, I think I like this very much. Even if he does taste like pasta salad and vinegar chips.

But alas, I had to settle for a cheek kiss. Not that I'd consider it settling. The fact that his lips contacted any part of my skin made me want to squeal like the dolphin I am. Fortunately, I had the ability to contain my urges until I was a safe ten minute distance from his house. Where I then pulled over and squealed my heart out. It was a toned done squeal due the lateness of the hour, but a squeal nonetheless.

As a human, I'm prone to error. Which is why Blaine showed up in my room during my one of my internet perusals. While I was waiting for my facial mask was hardening. There are so many things wrong with this situation, but let me list just a few. Green face. Hair pulled back by cloth headband. Internet open for the world to see. The world being Blaine.

He peered over my shoulder at what I was doing. Reading the screen, his face broke out into a devilish grin. It made me want to smile, but I was not cracking my mask. "Excuse me. I'm from the FBI, the Fine Body Investigators, and I'm going to have to ask you to assume the position."

Did I forget to mention that it was a pickup line generator?

"Hand me that towel would you?" He picked up the towel that was over on my vanity. He almost handed it over, but his hand retreated at the last minute.

"Not until you get into position sir." Wow, that pick up line was really working. Blaine's hot and all, but seeing him in such an authorial position is a whole new level of hot. Like a kiln.

"I am not getting all of this," I signaled to my face, "on my sheets. It'll look like Christmas." All we'd need is some cookies, a restricted amount of spiked eggnog, a sprig of mistletoe...

He handed over the towel. I scrubbed my face clean. "So what are you looking at anyway?"

I let him sit on the bed and showed him the page. He clicked for a new line. _The fact that I'm missing my teeth just means there's more room for your tongue._ Trying to make light of the suddenly awkward situation I cocked my head at him.

"I can only imagine two old geezers frenching with their dentures out. Isn't that just so romantic?" Free of the mask, I can now roll my eyes. Blaine lightly punched me on the arm, pushing aside the laptop with his other hand.

"Not that I don't appreciate that picture that you so kindly placed in my head, but aren't you wondering why I came here?" I took the time to shut down the computer. He strolled over to where he had left his coat and pulled out the a stack of sheet music.

"You want me to practice with you?" I yanked the headband off, trying my best, and most likely failing, to straighten out my hair. Blaine chuckled and reached out to stop my incessant patting.

"Well, it was either this or babysit. I escaped before my mom could refute." He leafed through the pile. _Animal, Raise Your Glass, Candles. _Suddenly, Blaine's hand jerked back from the pile and he popped his finger into his mouth.

"What, you get a paper cut?" Blaine nodded.

"Kiss it to make it feel better?" He extracted his finger from his mouth and held it close to mine. I gave it a small peck. And then it occurred to me. Blaine and I indirectly swapped spit. His eyelids drooped and his pain subsided. I dropped his finger.

I glanced down at the pile of sheet music in front of us. Right on top was the beginning lines of Neon Trees.

_Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends... _


	4. Chapter 4

**Mumble, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Happy foreign language week to me reviewers. Critiquez – vous!**

While the news may come as shocking, I do watch animated movies not made by Disney. For example, about five years prior to this date, I went to see the Warner Brother's movie _Happy Feet._ I was immediately enraptured by the penguin that couldn't sing to find a soul mate.

I don't know what I'd do without my voice. With a few melodic bars I can have girls (and some guys) in the palm of my hand. Note the recent visit of our sister school. I got two girls' numbers. Not that I'll call them. They're nice and all, but like I told them, they're not my type.

I loved the music. Penguins really know how to bust some serious moves. I had _Boogie Wonderland_ stuck in my head for a week after I saw it. It was so catchy. I was captivated by the movie that my mom got me a stuffed penguin for my birthday. It was a huge Mumble. He had a zipper pocket in the back of the head.

It took me two weeks to realize that there was a crisp twenty dollar bill tucked in the pocket. It had never occurred to me to open it. I mean, I had the most cuddle worthy penguin in all the world. That is of course, ignoring the fact that the toy was mass produced and there was bound to be at least one as, if not dare I say, more cuddly than mine.

He has (because yes, he still has a rightful spot on my bed. Though he sits on my left, so I guess that makes it a left-ful spot on my bed. But that just sounds stupid) the bluest of eyes in the inanimate world. Kurt obviously has the bluest eyes. I would know; I've stared at him enough.

Oh God, that made me sound like a total creeper. Let's pretend I didn't just think that, m'kay?

He also wears this adorable yellow bow tie. Until I met Kurt, I'd never seen anyone wear a bow. Unless they were dressing up in a penguin suit. As in, a tuxedo. I apologize for trying and failing to be punny. Before I met anyone gay, I would pretend that Mumble was my boyfriend and I'd straighten his bow out like how a good boyfriend should. It was one of those things I always wanted to do. How hot is it to be so intimate to fix somebody's clothing for them? If you say not very, you have never adjusted Kurt Hummel's already perfect collar.

_"How are we supposed to get up on the stage at Regionals and sell sexy to the judges if I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby penguin?" _ I remember Kurt asking me that after our very foamy performance of _Animal_. I was compelled to agree with him. I did out loud. Which I completely understand was a stupid mistake, but I offered to help him with his expressions.

Now when I look at Kurt, I see a handsome guy who's love runs a lot deeper than he likes to let on. He's more about getting to now and love a person than jumping into bed with them. He didn't know how to be sexy because that's not who he is. He's romantic, which is, in my incredibly biased opinion, even better.

Despite the fact that he had asked me to leave, I wasn't satisfied. One day, Kurt is going to want to take that next step. Maybe it won't be after a few drinks like I told his father. He seemed pretty adamant on not getting drunk at Rachel's party, In retrospect I can see why. Not that I'd go back and change that. Now I am forever certain of my orientation.

If it were to ever get to the point where Kurt and I were to do the nasty (not that there is anything nasty about Kurt) I'd want him to know what he was wouldn't be awkward, only a blissful breaking of the laws of psychics. It'd be wicked.

I'd be lying if I said that I'm not nervous about next week. Sue said that New Directions was going to turn it up a couple dozen notches. Hence the _Animal _number. We've decided not to do it at Regionals. Without the foam and giant set of stairs, it loses some of its luster. So Neon Trees are out, and P!nk is in.

It struck me odd that Sue called Kurt porcelain. Not struck like a punch across the face. More like a gentle patting of the palm to the cheek. I already knew that his skin looked good. I didn't think I'd have the opportunity to find out that it not only looked good, but felt equally amazing. I'd say it was like a baby's bottom, but I don't normally go around feeling babies. I've changed a few diapers, and their butts simply feel wet. Not smooth, like Kurt's cheek.

We were practicing for _Candles _in my room. Our voices were taking a break while we split a can of fat free Reddi-Wip. During Kurt's second squirt, the phone rang, the can jerked and he accidentally got sprayed some on his cheek. I leaned in to wipe it off his cheek. And oh my goodness did that boy have soft cheeks.

It is highly possible that I look like a complete and utter moron staring into space with a can of fat free Reddi-Wip in my hand. I've been day dreaming for the past five minutes about a very tempting somebody. Somebody being Kurt.

"So my dad got me some pamphlets." Kurt takes the can and set it aside. So Mr. Hummel had acted on my request.

"Did you have to sit through the talk?" My dad never wanted to have the talk with me. How was a man supposed to explain to his gay son how to reproduce? He obviously didn't get me by mating with another man.

"He told me that I shouldn't just go bed hopping and I should find somebody I want to make a deeper connection with. Somebody that wants to be with me for more than the night." He fiddles with the cap of the can, trying to get it on. I slide my hand over his and we both press it down.

"Your dad's a smart guy. In all honesty, I'm jealous of the bond you two have." The two clearly cared about each other, regardless of Kurt's romantic preferences. That's more than me and my dad have. I'm sure he loves me, and I love him, but I think he'd rather have a straight son.

Instead, he has a gay son. More than that, he has a gay son who is in love. Or at least in deep like.

Kurt didn't press the subject farther. Instead he scooches closer and leans his face right in mine like he's going to kiss me. He's not going to, but he's close enough to smell the Reddi-Wip on his breath. "This whipped cream better not all go straight to my hips."

I've already had three squirts and grab at the half empty can. "Kurt, it's fat free."

He falls back onto my pillow. He turns to the left and comes face to face with Mumble. I blush as he picks him up and eyes him over.

"Really Blaine?" He sounds somewhat amused as I take the penguin from him and nestle against it.

"What can I say? I love me my penguins." Kurt included. Even if he is only an honorary penguin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Spare Change, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review!**

Eleven eleven. The time when all the digits line up like little men in straight jackets. It's supposed to be lucky. If you close your eyes and make a wish, your greatest desire will come true. Not that Blaine believes wishing gets you what you want in life. It takes hard work and determination. But just in case...

_I wish I could make sense of my emotions for Kurt. _

Blaine rolled back over in bed. The clock turned eleven twelve.

Blaine was stuck. Metaphorically speaking, he was stuck in-between two different choices. However, he was also literally stuck, finding his feet could not separate themselves from the floor to follow Kurt. It wasn't his fault he always landed the solos. Council had handed them over on a silver platter. Or sheet music as the case may be. _Misery _was a hit with the Dalton boys, so it should be able to go off without a hitch at Regionals. On the other hand, maybe Kurt was right. He had been getting too much stage time.

When Kurt had called their act Blaine and the Pips he was put off. He understood the reference to Gladys Knight and the Pips. Yet all he could think about was the chipmunk from _Enchanted. _They were Warblers, not chipmunks.

His patience was being tested at the meeting. People were arguing over him as if he was their puppet. Blaine Warbler was no puppet. There clearly was no hand stuff up his butt, no marionette strings pulling at his arms. So he decided to speak up. He asked for a duet.

Kurt hinted not so subtly that he wanted his name on the top of the audition list. Blaine rebutted, asking that Kurt be placed as his duet partner. Sure, he had been wary of his emotions before. He didn't want to ruin a bond that strong. But looking back, had they ever been really just friends? He couldn't even count the miles he put on his car. The trips to McKinley, to the Lima Bean, to anywhere Kurt freaking Hummel might be breathing air. He had an addiction, and he was afraid to admit it.

There was no questioning their harmony. He had the great pleasure of what he now realized was serenading Kurt to _Baby it's Cold Outside._ He followed that boy around the room like they had both swallowed magnets. _Animal _had gone over well with the girls, notwithstanding the faces Kurt was pulling. Kurt had stood by him time and time again, no matter how big of an idiot he was.

Even the barista at the Lima Bean thought they were dating. He could swear he saw her watching them when the crowd died down. He ignored it and went on his merry way, flirting up Kurt like a kitten in heat. Inexperienced without the practice an adult cat would have, but not blind enough to miss the obvious tension. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't know what he was doing. But there comes a point when a real man throws down the instruction pamphlet and gets his hands dirty. This was Blaine's moment.

Correction. This was_ their_ moment. The moment where he dubs Kurt as his duet partner. When Kurt protested, he silenced him by proposing a vote. The hands of the Warblers rose to the ceiling. And for anyone paying attention, a slow smile crept across Wes's face as he watched Blaine finally make a move. He glanced over at David's minutes he was writing down. Everything was in its proper order, sans the very bold faced and block lettered _KLAINE!_ that had been scribbled across the margin. The corners of Wes's eyes crinkled in amusement as David underlined it twice for emphasis. Yeah, they were definitely going to have to rewrite these minutes before Kurt saw them.

On the table was a bottle of tacky glue. Kurt sat, pouring his heart and rhinestones into his work. Pavarotti deserved the best casket a bird could ask for. Blaine entered the room, after admiring him from afar for a minute. He had to collect himself and put on the façade of being in control of his emotions. In all honesty, he kind of felt like he was going to wet his pants.

The label was turned away from him, but Blaine could feel the aura of the word. Tacky. It shot daggers into his heart. He mentally prepared himself. _Don't be tacky, don't be tacky. Don't break into song. _He presented his song choice first. It'd be enough to break the ice. Then again, so would a polar bear.

It was inevitable. Kurt broke the ice even further. Now it was like two morbidly obese polar bears playing chess on a sheet of ice. Every move counted. Faced with no other choice, Blaine went for it. Alright, so there were other choices. Blaine could glue his mouth shut with the tacky glue that mocked him so and not tell Kurt about his epiphany. Ice wouldn't be the only thing breaking.

There was no way they'd win Regionals with a pair of broken hearts.

Blaine was proud of himself. He had successfully not made a fool of himself in front of Kurt. He could still taste that kiss on his lips. And it tasted darn amazing. Now he was free to do and say as he pleased to Kurt. If he wanted to tell him his voice was perfect, he could. If he wanted to tell him his nerves were adorable, he could. If he wanted to stay behind after practice to have an intense makeout session with Kurt, he could. Not that he would. He'd much rather escort him back to his room where there was much more privacy.

When he finished his duet with Kurt, he pulled him into the spotlight. Almost as if to say _be jealous. You wish you kissed someone this hot. _They hugged and Blaine had to remember where he was. Yes, he was in Kurt's arms, but he was on stage. They exited the stage for New Directions.

Somehow from the time they had left stage to the audience, Jeff had ended up between Kurt and Blaine. When they reached their aisle he simply moved out of the way and let Blaine pass. The boys smiled in appreciation. They had kept calm for the most part. That is until Kurt found the foam fingers scattered amongst the audience and shot up to let out a sound of pure delight.

Yup, Blaine was definitely proud.

It's never easy to bury a friend. It's even worse to bury a parent. Kurt's had to do both now. He was young when he buried his mother. He was rather advanced for his age, being the only one in his class that actually colored inside the lines of his Barbie coloring book. This funeral was different. There were no long lost family members, no weeping dad at his shoulder. It was him, Blaine and a bird in the box.

Off in the distance, the other Warblers watched, torn between saying their last goodbyes and letting Kurt go it alone. They were having a moment. It was better to come back later. Pavarotti would have wanted it that way.

Wes dug into his pants pocket. "I bet you ten cents the reason he picked Kurt is 'cause he likes him."

"You'd only place a dime on those two? I'd say my entire life savings." David tore his eyes away from the grave to look at the petty change in Wes's palm.

"Well I don't carry my life savings in my pocket. All I have is this dime." He would've bet a dollar, but the bag of Sun Chips in the vending machine was too tempting to resist.

"I'm not betting against you. That'd be stupid." David pushed Wes's hand away. The dime fell to the ground.

"Hey Jeff..."

"Forget it." Jeff tugged at his sleeve, pulling it up to dab his eyes.

"Told you so." David pulled a tissue out of his pocket and handed it to Jeff. He accepted it.

"Shut up." Wes slumped against a tree. He dejectedly picked up his dime and looked up just in time to see Kurt and Blaine walk away, hand in hand.

He so could've been ten cents richer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Corn, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Be kind, review!**

When somebody does you a favor, it's only common courtesy to do something for them in return. Which is precisely what we were doing. That is, until Tweedle Wes and David barged in. Sure it looked like a compromising situation, but I can explain. There is a perfectly logical reason why Blaine's mouth is at my neck. And no, it's not for my enjoyment. My enjoyment is just a bonus.

"What are you two doing?" Wes set his textbook down on the common table. I put a hand to Blaine's chest in a lame attempt to get him off of me. He took the hint.

"I'm helping Blaine with his improvisational acting." See, I told you I had a reason.

"Since when does foreplay count as improve?" David asked. His book was still wedged underneath his arm, like he knew he was pushing boundaries and needed to be ready to run.

"No, really. Kurt was being corn on the cob, and I was being Meeko after not eating for three days." That raccoon can barely go three minutes, let alone three days without eating. Hence the urgency to attack my neck with a series of butterfly kisses.

"One should never choose roles on an empty stomach." I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"What were you doing during lunch?" Wes gave a knowing stare. Or what he thought was a knowing stare, since he really didn't know the half of it. All he knew was what he saw.

"Studying for a test. Blaine was quizzing me." No one had to know the reward I got for right answers. It was only a peck. I managed to ace that test with flying colors by the way.

"You are quite the busy pair. We'll just leave you alone now." David dragged Wes out of the room and shut the door behind him. With any luck, maybe they're going to get food. Worst case scenario they press their ears against the doorway and listen in on our conversation. Not that there was much talking going on.

"Maybe we should try more human roles... Roxie and Velma?" Blaine stood from his spot on the couch.

I stood up to match my lips to the curve of his ear. "They weren't gay with each other."

"How do you know? Some people get pretty lonely in jail. Besides," his voice dropped, "number seventeen."

Before I even got the chance to get all hot and bothered over the concept of the spread eagle, David and Wes barged back in. Well, Wes barged. David stood in the doorway.

"I forgot my book." Wes headed back for the door. Turning on his heel he added, "You two are so gay together."

"Don't deny it. We saw you hold hands." David made his presence known, not bothering to come further into the room.

"Well if that's all it took then I'd say we've been together since day one. Which we weren't." Blaine slung an arm around my shoulders.

"You were like Slinky Dog. Wherever one went the other followed." Wes, please leave the room or I will be forced to hit you with your own textbook.

"He just used _Toy Story_ against me! Last time I'll go to the movies with him." His hand left my chest to point angrily at his ex-movie buddy.

"I'll go to the movies with you," I said from my oddly comfortable position under his arm. You'd think with him being shorter that it'd be an awkward stretch. I looked down to see his heels weren't touching the ground. I leaned us back onto the top of the couch. His arm relaxed around me. Much better.

"You're going to pay eight dollars to make out with Blaine?" David grew tired of holding his large textbook and switched arms.

"Wes made out with Blaine?" I knew that it hadn't happened, but their reaction was too priceless to not say anything. Blaine leapt up from his spot next to me.

"No!" Their response echoed throughout the room and a few stray students in the halls lifted their heads from their texting to see what was going on.

"I would never kiss Wes. No offense." He rejoined me on the couch, returning his arm to its rightful position.

_i.e. around me. _

"None taken. You're not my type." Wes had said he had a girlfriend. He had flirted with Santana at our Breadstix performance.

"You're type is female." David patted his friend on the back. Wes looked irked, so David offered his arm to him. They linked elbows and left with their books.

"Is he sure about that?" Blaine tucked a hair behind my ear and trailed his fingers along the nape of my neck. It tickled.

"Oh shut up and kiss me." He obeyed. The gurgling of my stomach broke the moment.

"We really shouldn't have skipped lunch." His stomach spoke back to mine. Our stomachs agreed to make a quick dash to the local mini mart before our next class.

I survived the afternoon on Red Vines.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

There are moments in my life where I question why I ever thought something doomed to fail would work. But I was bright eyed and optimistic. Moments earlier I had been lidded eyes and lustful. Finn's rather loud footsteps up the stairs cut that mood short. He knocked on the door to my room. It was open. My dad still doesn't trust me behind closed doors with Blaine around. Especially now that he knows Blaine and I are together. That stench you smell isn't raging hormones dad. It's Finn's socks.

Finn had caught on quickly to what was going on. I had already admitted to him my feelings for Blaine. Even if I hadn't, the arm wrapped around my waist spoke for me.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Rachel asked me to give this to Kurt." He handed over a scented candle. "Something about olives? She said she was sorry about dating your gay best friend."

I tried to conceal a snicker at Finn's confusion. The gift was Rachel's way of holding out the olive branch. I ignored his misunderstanding and addressed a more important issue.

"About that. Turns out my gay best friend is really my gay boyfriend." I felt the arm around my waist curl tighter. Like, _hah this is mine. _Finn stood awestruck.

"Dude, I'm happy for you. I just don't know what to say. There's this whole hooray scene playing out in my head. I wish I could photocopy my thoughts and give them to you. But if guys could copy their thoughts there'd be no point in Playboy. Then the future generations wouldn't know what to imagine and then when it finally happened they'd freak out. Sure there's those health class diagrams but who honestly pays attention to those things? We cannot have deformed women running around!" Finn seemed as though he could go on for days with his one sided conversation. I put a halt to his pacing and wild arm motions. I couldn't have him breaking something.

"There's still the internet Finn." The internet had been helpful to my search in the past. Surely it had only expanded since I last tried.

"What about the people who don't get internet?" He leaned into our personal bubble. The one that we share, as in chez Klaine. A vein was bulging in his forehead. Wow, I didn't know Finn was so concerned about third world countries' sexual education. Because food and water aren't nearly as important.

"Pretty sure they don't get Playboy either." Blaine smiled cheekily. Finn backed up, and started out of the room.

"I am _never _leaving Ohio."


	7. Chapter 7

**Nylon, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee or A Doll's House. Remember to review!**

The idea of having long hair isn't foreign to Kurt. He wore a long wing when he played Riff Raff back at McKinley. Neither is the idea of women's clothing. They're fashion staples in his closet. Or at least they were, until they got demoted by the not nearly as fashionable school uniform he wore five days of the week. Now they are pushed aside to make way for a row of gray pants and tacky navy jackets. He thrives on bringing out his precious designers at every opportunity.

Today however, all the uniforms were clean and laundered, hanging in the closet along with the Kurt's collection of all things runway ready. No, Kurt was not running around in the buff. Even worse, he was wearing a pair of borrowed nylons and a dress. How is this worse than being nude you ask? Allow me to elaborate.

Yesterday afternoon, during what Kurt had thought was his favorite class, Literature, the class went to the dressing room behind the stage. At first it had sounded like a grand adventure. They had just finished reading _A Doll's House_ and the teacher had hinted that they were going to perform the play for the student body. Kurt envisioned himself as Doctor Rank. He was diseased, and in a way so was Kurt. He was cursed with the rejection of society. The constant locker shoving, the name calling. He was yet to shake the memory of cherry slushie dripping down his face, streaming into his eyes. It burned.

Rank was in love with a married woman. Blaine was in no way married, or woman for that matter. In fact, Kurt had secured himself the position of Boyfriend. Capital b boyfriend. But there was once a time when Blaine was doting on another man, and he was as good as taken. At that point they had boy friends. Lowercase b. Those feelings were accessible in the deep recesses of his mind.

Normally Kurt is all for being in the spotlight. But when the spotlight is beating down on his heavily layered body, things start to get hot. In the completely uncomfortable, I need a cold shower kind of way. Not the lust-lorn ones. (Because let's face it, lovelorn didn't cover it.) More like the, oh God, it's forty billion degrees and the air conditioning just broke.

Dress aside, which was a mountain of fabric and frills itself, Kurt had been tied into a corset. And unlike when you tie your shoes too tight, it is very difficult to loosen your corset by yourself. Especially when your supposed friends are too busy taking pictures to post on Facebook. Pictures that were destined to be untagged and commented on with the fury of Medusa. Medusa being Kurt.

If only his eyes could turn them all to stone. Ever willing to fit in and not cause a ruckus Kurt had agreed to play the female lead. He was the most effeminate of the group. Or at least that's what his so called friends had told him when doling out parts.

He wasn't the only boy forced into a female role. There was an underclassman cast as Miss Linde. He was smaller than Kurt and much quieter. He too had to wear a corset and dress. But being the reserved guy he was, nobody was there to take pictures and poke fun at him. He wasn't anywhere near looking like a girl. The faint line of a mustache trailed his upper lip and his eyebrows were so large Kurt swore they'd crawl off like two caterpillars. But he was the only guy small enough to fit in the costume.

As of now, Kurt is getting fitted into his costume. He's reading over the condensed script, highlighting his lines. Fortunately without the pressure of Nationals Kurt is secure in knowing that he can master his lines in the two weeks he's given. He master _Rocky Horror_ in one. Then again, he didn't have the weight of the world, or at least five pounds of excessive fabric, on his shoulders.

Class has ended and Kurt has ten minutes before he has to get to practice. The person at his feet asks him to turn so he can finish pinning the hem. Kurt rotates on his pedestal and nearly drops his script. There, staring at him is Blaine, clutching his bag. He doesn't reach in to pull out a camera and take a picture. He doesn't point and laugh like the others. And for the first time in the past half hour, Kurt doesn't want to run and hide his face in his ruffles.

"I was going to surprise you and walk you to your locker before practice. But it looks like out of the two of us, I'm definitely more surprised." Blaine readjusts his grip on his bag and starts toward Kurt.

"I got cast as Nora in the school's production of _A Doll's House." _Kurt pulls at the bobby pins holding his wig in place.

"I'm proud of you Kurt. But in all honesty, you make a much hotter guy than girl." He puts his hands up as if it wipes away the offence. Kurt isn't terribly offended. Coming from a gay guy he completely understands.

"Are you saying you don't like my curves?" Kurt sets the wig down on the nearby table and reaches to remove his implants. A mound of tissues forms on the table as his chest becomes flatter and flatter. He struggles to grab his zipper to get the dress off and Blaine comes to the rescue.

"Y'know," he says as he tugs at the stubborn zipper, "I never pictured this when I thought about your first stripping. Maybe after graduation or cornering you in a dressing room, but not this." The zipper suddenly slides down quickly and easily. Kurt's expression of surprise isn't from the noise. Not unless someone asks. Which if they do, he is so blaming it on that darned zipper.

"You've imagined peeling off my clothing?" Then he processes the rest of what Blaine had implied. "More than once?"

"I'm a teenaged boy with hormones. You make me out to be a monster." He lets the dress fall forward on Kurt, teasingly biting at the tender skin of his neck. Kurt steps out of the dress puddled at his feet. He's standing in front of Blaine in a pair of boxers, his undershirt and a corset. How has nobody managed to ruin this yet?

Without being asked, Blaine continues to help Kurt out of his costume, untying the corset to let Kurt take in some air. Never has he felt so grateful to use his full lung capacity. To show his appreciation of how well he can use his lungs, he turns and shows Blaine just how long he can hold his breath.

Blaine enjoys this very much.

When Kurt pulls away, he becomes all too aware of how naked he is. He grabs at the uniform Blaine is holding in front of him. He takes the time to get dressed, without the help of Blaine. The costume is hung back in it's proper spot on the rack.

The pair leaves for practice. Kurt realizes that he's still wearing his stockings beneath his pants but doesn't turn back.

It's okay; Blaine can help him with those later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sucks, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Review as always!**

Sometimes Wes wonders why he thinks going to Dalton is so great. The work load is intense. There's no girls. And one day his gavel mysteriously vanished only to reappear the next day in the same place he had left it. He's sure the guys had been screwing with him that time.

And sure he had a girlfriend so there was no reason to flirt with his classmates. That is his hypothetical female classmates. Because no matter what the other Warblers think, he does not have a secret romance going on with David. They are just best friends.

So all in all, Dalton is a nice, comfortable school for Wes. Even if Kurt does enjoy pushing his buttons.

In retrospect, it was probably not the best idea to make the bet with Kurt in the first place. That boy knew his musicals like the back of his hand. Heck, he knew his musicals like Blaine's face. And Kurt sees a lot more of Blaine's face than the back of his hand. Except for when he's sucking on Blaine's face harder than a Hoover vacuum. Wes imagines that Kurt has his eyes closed for that. Not that he's ever watched them kiss. That'd be awkward.

Even though Warbler's practice had been long over, some of the guys had hung around the commons room. It was awfully quiet for a Friday afternoon. It seemed that everybody had a date night planned. Wes glanced at the clock. His girlfriend had to work tonight and wasn't getting out until seven, when he would pick her up and take her out to dinner. So here he was sprawled across the couch in commons.

Kurt was having an animated conversation with Jeff across from him. Jeff was paying attention, taking down notes now and then. Kurt was the ultimate fashion god. After _Animal, _one of the Crawford girls had asked him to call her. And now that he finally did, he realized he had absolutely no clue what to wear.

Jeff seemed satisfied with the notes he had taken down and thanked Kurt, who only let him go with the promise that he'd send him a picture of what he was wearing before he picked up his date. Blaine, who was in a deep conversation with Thad, glanced over at the now free Kurt. He smiled and went back to his conversation. He was sure he could convince Thad to sing _Fly me to the Moon _at their next performance.

Wes, who was becoming increasingly bored as the minutes passed turned to Kurt. "Master Hummel, I challenge you."

Kurt gave him an incredulous stare. "What exactly are you challenging me to Wesley?"

Wes sat up and smoothed the wrinkles from his blazer. Pulling his iPod Touch from his bag, Wes thumbed through to open the internet. He glanced from the screen to Kurt. Then he turned the screen to him.

"_Wizard of Oz_ trivia." Wes dug through his bag again. This time he pulled out a bag of peppermint candies. "I'll give you a piece of candy every time you get a question right."

"Bring it on." Kurt sat alert in his seat. Trent and Nick came over to watch. Kurt Hummel could be very amusing when he had his game face on.

"Alright, I'll start easy on you. How did the horses of Emerald City obtain their color?" Wes rolled the mint between his fingertips. Trent and Nick looked to Kurt.

"Jell-o crystals. Which meant they had to film quickly before the horses licked them off. Really Wesley, if it's going to be this easy, you might as well hand over your candy now." Kurt faked a yawn. Trent and Nick looked back at Wes to see how he'd react. Wes was furiously scrolling through the webpage to find a more challenging question.

"What is the name of the head winged monkey?" He handed the first mint over to Kurt, who kept his hand open.

"Nikko. Who wore the same tasteless outfit as the Winkies. Seriously what were they thinking? I love the _Wizard of Oz _to no end, but somebody definitely needs to get a hold of the wardrobe staff." Kurt took the candy from Wes.

"Bonus points!" Trent and Nick exclaimed as their hands collided in the air. The smack resonated throughout the room. They grinned sheepishly.

After half an hour and three movie musicals Wes had run out of candy. Trent had insisted on _Chicago_ and soon after Nick had suggested _Rocky Horror Picture Show. _He had remembered telling Nick once about how they had almost put on the show back in McKinley. So either Nick really liked getting on Wes's nerves or expected Kurt to share his candy. Perhaps a little bit of both.

Kurt pulled a few pieces from the pile and slid the rest to his friends. They both took a piece and unwrapped them. Thad looked up at the crinkling of wrappers. "Want one?"

Thad held his hand up and Nick tossed one in his direction. He caught it and unwrapped it. Kurt continued stacking his candies, one on top of the other. His tower got six high and fell. He started to stack them up again. Seven and falling. Soon they were competing to see who could get their mints to stack the highest.

"Blaine look! I got ten!" Kurt enthusiastically pointed to his tower. Blaine got up to see what his boyfriend was so excited over. He sat down next to Kurt and examined the tower.

"That is talent right there." He took out his phone and snapped a picture. Nick's tower collapsed and crashed into Kurt's. He hurried to make an apology.

"It's okay." He reached for one of the mints on the table and unwrapped it. Blaine started to restack the mints. Once the mint in his mouth had fully dissolved, he pulled Kurt's hands away from the stack.

"You know, there are other uses for these mints." He continued to pull him closer, showing him just how great those mints really could be. Wes's phone buzzed. He opened up his text message. Dejectedly, he slid the phone back into his pocket and started building.

Blaine finished proving his point and looked to Wes. "What's wrong?"

Wes untwisted a mint and popped it in his mouth. "My girlfriend picked up overtime and can't go out tonight."

He sucked harder on the candy. His mouth puckered at the edges. But that wasn't what sucked the most. He looked over at Blaine and Kurt, who were working together to beat Nick and Trent. Thad slipped into the seat and said the words on Wes's mind.

"Romance sucks."

And Thad and Wes started to build a tower. Wes sucks. Trent, Thad, Nick, Blaine and Kurt suck. Romance sucks.

But stacking peppermint candies on a dateless Friday night?

Totally doesn't suck.


	9. Chapter 9

**Carts, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review. **

For some reason beyond my understanding, I have the strange urge to lift Kurt into the air, sit him in main compartment of the shopping cart and push him around making motor sounds similar to that of a race car. My urge can not be satisfied for many reasons including the following.

1. Kurt is much too tall for me to lift without falling over. If I attempt to lift him up we will tumble to the ground. I can not be held responsible for any of my actions after that. I really don't want to be explaining to my mother how I almost got arrested for indecent exposure.

2. The shopping cart is made out of plastic. The bottom of the cart is strips that cross in an x pattern. I do not want a checkerboard indent on Kurt's butt.

3. There's a disapproving mother across the aisle that looks like she'd no sooner beat some sense into me if I set a bad example for her child. It's no fair. Her kid is safely buckled in the seat, grabbing at the bag of chocolate eggs in front of him. I'm sure he'd be delighted to race me around the store. What four year old boy _doesn't_ like race cars?

So instead, I grip onto the cart and push it down the aisle. The front wheel turns circles, making it hard to steer. Maybe it is better that I don't push Kurt around. We wouldn't want anybody getting hurt.

It's a Saturday afternoon and Kurt and I are shopping for Easter. Granted Kurt is against the religious background of it all, but when I mentioned my little cousin who still believes in the magic of the Easter Bunny, he volunteered to help in any way he could. I tested him on that promise. We were in the car on the way to the store when we hit a traffic light. I turned to him and asked if he would dress up as the Easter Bunny for the occasion.

Kurt's head slammed against the wheel. His horn let out a startling noise and the car in front of him zoomed off. He proceeded through the green light.

"Blaine, I love you, but I am not wearing a bunny suit. Have you ever been inside one of those costumes? I heard they smell like rotting cheese in there." He kept his eyes on the road ahead of him.

"Kurt, I performed at theme parks. The guys in the suits mentioned nothing about rotting cheese. I do however remember the scent of corndogs and TAG. Those guys went through so much deodorant. But it was like, 90 degrees out and crowded." I dug around in the bag at my feet and pulled out a mint.

"So you want be to put on a silly bunny costume that smells like corn dogs just to satisfy a small child?" Kurt pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car. I looked back at him as I went to unbuckle myself.

Our heads butted as we both leaned down. I leaned up and kissed him. He took it as my apology.

Several moments later we exited the car. I linked hands with him and headed toward the store. "Well if you want we can both dress up. Wes is always telling us we should make like bunnies."

I winked at him and a slight blush creeped across his face. "I'm pretty sure that's not what he meant Blaine."

"That's too bad. I can't resist a guy with a bunny tail," I purred into his ear. I could feel the shivers shoot through his body into my hand.

"Fine. But you and I are going to have an Easter hunt of our own when I'm done." He smirked slyly at me as he tilted his head to my ear. "Without the tacky eggs."

Kurt pulls a wicker basket off the shelf. It was a pale pink. In his other hand he has a purple one. Disapprovingly, he places them both back on the shelf.

"I'm pretty sure she cares more about what's in the basket than the basket itself." I take the purple basket back off the shelf and put it in the cart. He frowns but doesn't say anything. We travel further down the aisle to sort through the giant mound of toys on display.

He pulls an over-sized plush duck from the pile. "I think I'm love." He cuddles up against the duck and sighs.

Great, I'm jealous of a stuffed toy. Kurt is my man. No amount of canoodling with a stuffed toy is going to change that.

I lower the duck from its place on his neck; the same place I had claimed as my own days ago. Need I remind Kurt what went down in the car before we entered the store? I want to say yes, but that glaring mother is just down the aisle.

"I hate to break it to you Mister Duck, but Kurt's my boyfriend." Still, I place him in the kiddy seat of the cart. If a teenaged boy reacts like this to him, I can bet that my cousin will do the same.

I push him around the corner and down the lane. The store is infamous for spiking the prices on Easter candy ever year. We stroll to the empty candy aisle.

Kurt pulls me aside and pushes me against a Wonka display. The air reeks of grape Laffy Taffy and Pixy Stix, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You were jealous of a stuffed duck?" Mister Duck looks on from his spot in the cart.

"You were canoodling him." Kurt backs off from me. At first I feel disappointment. He probably thinks I'm lame for being jealous over a toy. I watch as he turns Mister Duck in his seat and comes back toward me before I can detach myself from the wall.

It takes me a moment to realize what happened. The duck is oblivious about what is going on behind him. Which is a good thing, because having a duck stare at you while you kiss is seriously disturbing.

At the sound of giggling we separate. I look around for the source of the noise while Kurt fixes his hair. Nobody seems to be around. From the next aisle over I hear the mother again.

"Stop it Harold. It's not funny to pull on mommy's hair." She grunts in pain as the kid squeals with delight.

"So, the basket?" I ask. A slap rings out from the direction of the mother. Kurt does not look pleased. He storms around the corner. I follow him with the cart. As we turn the corner, another slap is heard. I see that the boy is no longer in the cart, but standing in front of his mother, tears streaming down his face.

"How dare you?" Kurt marches right up to the mother without looking back. I bend down to see if the kid is okay.

"Excuse me? Just who do you think you are to judge _my _parenting skills?" She plants a manicured hand on her hip. Like that'll intimidate Kurt. Lady, he's been slammed and slushied for so long. You think he'd be intimidated by a woman in a polka dotted dress?

"I lost my mother when I was a kid. What if he loses his? Do you really want him to remember you as the evil witch that slapped him in the grocery store?" I finish dabbing the tears from his eyes and stand up. I have the feeling that Harold's eyes aren't going to be the only ones in need of wiping.

The woman scoops up her child and places him back in the cart. Wordlessly she moves to the cash register.

We go back to the candy aisle, but neither of us are actually looking at what's on the shelves. We're watching the mother as she pats his back, whispering sorry over and over. When I feel as though our guidance has become stalking, I return to my own business. A tear is running down Kurt's cheek. I pass over it with my thumb.

"Milk Duds?" He holds up the box. I take it from him and put it in the cart. We scan the shelves to see what else we can find. I drop a box of Jujyfruits in with them. Kurt points to a bag of Twizzlers.

"Are you out of your mind? Was my kiss really that mind blowing?" I shake my head in mock disgust. "We Andersons only nosh on quality candy."

Kurt rolls his eyes at me.

We're up in Kurt's bedroom finishing off the basket. Kurt loops a piece up ribbon around my neck. Mister Duck is moved to the side. Finn appears in the doorway staring as his brother ties a neat bow. He looked pretty shocked.

In fact, you could call him (egg)shell shocked.

But that would just make you weird.


	10. Chapter 10

**Tsunami, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review!**

"We should have a fundraiser at Dalton." Kurt linked his hand in Blaine's after they left the McKinley auditorium.

"What would we raise funds for?" He turned the corner towards the parking lot.

"How about the Japanese? The Warblers could hold a benefit concert like New Directions." Except this time it would work, and all hecklers would promptly be thrown out. They were like rockstars at Dalton; people would come.

"How about we raise funds for New Directions? They need the money for Nationals. We could go to New York, rent a hotel room-" Kurt blushed like an innocent school girl and called out in protest. Not that he was a girl. Or innocent for that matter. "-go to the show and shop all day long..."

Blaine trailed off and looked to him as they stepped out into the chilly parking lot. He shot him a hopeful look as he dug around in his pocket for the keys. Kurt reached into his opposite pocket and pulled them out. He held them slightly above his head, out of Blaine's reach.

"One bed or two?"

_Finn overheard your plans to throw a benefit for us. Mr. Schue says we have to raise our own money. –Rachel_

Kurt stared down at his phone. Just when he had built up the confidence to face the council and propose his idea, Rachel texts him and declines his help. To think he had spent lunch working on a proposal he didn't need. That sucked.

_Please say he's past selling taffy. That stuff will rot my teeth. – Kurt_

Blaine walked up to him. Linking his elbow, he led him through the open doors, whispering in his ear. "Ready?"

Kurt showed him the message. His phone buzzed and together they opened the new text.

_Nobody would buy it. Turns out candy before prom is like, forbidden. – Rachel_

They sat down on the couch and Kurt tucked his phone away. Wes wasn't terribly strict, but he didn't like phones being out at meetings. And you do not test that when he has a gavel in his hand. Gavel plus phone does not equal happy ending.

The meeting was going smoothly. The council was running through a list of possible song choices. Each Warbler had their chance to audition. Sure, it was just for a group of senior citizens, but they couldn't have anybody be Sinatra. Not everyone could _Fly Me to the Moon. _It's like sending a monkey into outer space instead of the astronaut. Why do something safe when you can find something amazing?

Nick was in the middle of a very enthusiastic rendition of _Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart. _The karaoke track was barely heard compared to the strength of his voice. But then the sound of a cell phone ringing broke the performance. Suddenly the background music was very audible. Wes looked around for the owner of the phone. David leaned over to him.

"Um Wes, that's _your _phone." He gasped at his own negligence and extracted his phone out of his pocket. Nick stopped his music.

"Hullo?" Wes picked up, despite not knowing the number on caller id. He'd like to know who had the inkling to interrupt his meeting. He was ready to give them a piece of his mind.

"Is this the Dalton Academy Warblers?" A thick Indian accent was on the other end. Wes had no clue who they were, so he pressed on.

"Yes. We were just in the middle of practice actually." Wes threw an irritated look across the room. Not because the caller was there to glare at, but if he wasn't throwing glares, he'd be throwing gavels. Which had the potential to cause bodily injury to someone. Or injury to his gavel.

"I'm calling to see if you boys would be interested in singing at the McKinley High Prom." Wes's mouth dropped open. Here was some stranger who had yet to tell him his name, offering them a legit gig. How could he be so lucky? He put the phone on speaker.

"We'd be honored to sing at McKinley's prom Mr.- I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name." The boys were silently causing a riot around the room. If that was possible. It was like a party scene from those chick flicks his girlfriend made him watch. Except it was on mute and he didn't have a bowl of popcorn to get him through it.

"Figgins. Rachel Berry referred me to you. Can I trust her to get you the specifics?" The now identified caller was shuffling papers at his desk.

"Yes sir. Have a nice day." Wes hung up the phone and turned to Kurt and Blaine who were giving each other knowing looks. So maybe they couldn't do a fund raiser. But Warblers were going to prom!

"Does this mean that my audition is over?" Nick asked from his spot next to the boom box. The council held a brief consensus with their eyes.

"Take it from the top." Thad ordered as Nick restarted the track.

Maybe Kurt would get that slow dance after all.

"How is it that we're singing about how Blaine wants in Kurt's pants again?" Thad asked at rehearsal the next day.

"Don't blame me. Wes picked the song. And it's Jeff's solo." He jabbed his thumb in their direction. Singing _Do Ya Think I'm Sexy_ was not his idea, nor was going to blame or credit for it.

"What do you mean again? As in the song itself or Kurt's pants?" Wes questioned his choice. He had a vivid vision of Blaine seducing Kurt with the song and shuddered.

"Can we please stop talking about who or what is in my pants?" Much blinking went on. The kind of blinking that says _whoa dude _and _kinky Kurt. _His sheepish chuckle broke them out of their state.

"No need to get defensive Kurt. It's only an observation." Thad said calmly. What, now that Kurt and Blaine are dating the guys can be blatant about their observations?

"Thad, Kurt could sing Barney and Blaine would find it attractive." David piped up from behind him. Thad grinned, amused. Today must've been _pick on Blaine and Kurt _day.

"Hey, a five year old would find that song very romantic." Blaine tried to stand up for himself. "Who doesn't want to be told a big purple dinosaur loves them?"

Jeff raised his hand in the background.

"Wouldn't you rather your boyfriend tells you how much he loves you? Or do I need to rent a dinosaur costume?" Kurt stepped closer to him. Their noses touched. Remembering the presence of their fellow Warblers, Blaine settled for a cheek kiss.

"It's really hard to kiss someone in an animal costume." Kurt turned to Jeff looking for some sort of explanation. "I've done a lot of birthday parties."

Wes stepped to the center of the circle and put his hands up. "Enough of this nonsense. We have music to practice."

"Are we still going to have Jeff sing about Blaine trying to get in Kurt's pants?" Thad asked, thumbing through a list of song suggestions.

"I thought we dropped that." Blaine let go of Kurt. His hands were nowhere near his pants now. So hah, take that Warbler Wes.

"No." Jeff opened his mouth to ask a question. "And no, we are not going to sing about how Kurt wants to get in Blaine's pants either."

Thad finished going through the songs choices. "How about Bublé?" He held out the lyrics to _Haven't Met you Yet. _Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Now as far as costume is concerned." Kurt cracked his knuckles and pulled out a sketch pad. Anything to get these guys out of their uniforms.

Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.


	11. Chapter 11

**Cream, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Happy Arbor day to all my reviewers. **

It had barely been a week since Kurt had transferred back to McKinley, and Blaine's friends were already comparing him to ice cream toppings. What the heck.

They weren't comparing him to sprinkles, being all gay and rainbows. He wasn't caramel sauce either, being sickly sweet and sticky. Yes, he was gay and sweet, but he was pretty sure he wasn't sticky. At least, Kurt never complained.

It was one fine day in the commons. It truly was only _fine, _not _good_, or _great_ or any of those other words that surpass it. It could've been a good day, great even if Kurt was by his side. But no, he was stuck with Jeff and Nick. He didn't have anything against the two. In fact, he considered them to be his friends. His very annoying friends who like pointing out the obvious to push at all of his buttons.

He was going over Jeff's solo, giving him pointers on how to command a presence as the lead. One without jumping on the furniture that is. All it would take is a jump onto the snack table and punch would go flying. That's be a shame, seeing as though Kurt had spent the time designing their costumes after he transferred to ensure they didn't embarrass him in front of the entire school. Not that they hadn't flash mobbed the school with a severely touching version of _Somewhere Only we Know. _

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. Scratch that. He yanked it out of his pocket with such speed that one would think the inside lining of his pocket was on fire. His gaze lowered to the screen where Kurt's name flashed. He grinned to himself.

"You're so whipped they should call you cream." Nick joked at the sight of his overly excited friend.

"Okay." Blaine opened the message to read it.

"Okay? You cannot admit defeat that easily." Jeff added. Blaine looked up frustrated. These two were distracting him from his boyfriend. What if Kurt had gotten into a terrible accident and was writing him to tell him to meet him at the hospital? Oh no, now he had images of broken cars and bones running through his mind. Which is ridiculous, because there was still a good half hour before Kurt was let out of school for the day.

"I know when I'm whipped." Maybe Kurt was just writing to tell him he saw someone wearing a cleverly worded tee shirt and felt the urge to share.

"You're not even going to argue the name?" Nick raised an eyebrow in Blaine's direction.

"We could change it to something like CoolWhip." Jeff's stomach growled at the mention of food.

"Or Reddiwhip. Because you are so readily whipped." Nick leaned into Jeff's shoulder, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Now you've gone too far." Blaine glanced back down at his phone.

_Coffee date? XOXO- Kurt_

"I thought you were okay with being whipped." Jeff said, stopping Blaine once again from talking to Kurt.

"I am, but that pun was painful." Blaine got up and left, texting Kurt back.

"Did you see all the wind damage on the news? It's all along the east coast." Blaine sipped at his coffee and licked the whipped cream off his lips.

"The royal wedding was this morning and you want to talk about some broken trees and power lines?" Kurt traced his thumb along the rim of the cup. It was nearly May, and it was still chilly out. He was a little chilly, but his thumb was slowly warming.

"Kurt, it's Arbor Day and there are mother trees without their children. At least try to be sympathetic." Blaine put on a serious face. "Besides, you just want to talk about what everyone was wearing."

Kurt tugged absent mindedly at his own hat. "I would die to have some of those hats."

"But it's so much harder to run my fingers through your hair when you wear hats." Blaine quickly covered his mouth with his coffee cup. That thought was supposed to stay in his head. As in way up in the depths of his brain, nowhere near an escape like the ear canal, or nasal cavity, or his mouth. Especially his mouth.

Kurt's expression read mildly of shock, but mostly amusement. He set his hat on the table.

"So why the whipped cream today?" Kurt took a swig of his own drink.

"We were practicing for prom in the commons and Jeff and Nick were talking about whipped cream. Then I just really wanted some. " Blaine swallowed more coffee.

"I see. Do tell, what relevance does whipped cream have to Michael Bublé?" Kurt crossed the table and wiped the cream off Blaine's nose with his warm thumb. He sucked his thumb clean.

"It doesn't. At least none that I can think of." He picked Kurt's hat up from the table and plopped it on his own head. He cocked his head to the side, asking Kurt's opinion.

"Go ahead, wear it. I already can't thread my fingers through that gel locked hair of yours."

Blaine drove down the street Saturday morning, music pounding through his speakers. A good amount of people were still in bed, his parents included. But he promised Kurt they'd go to the early bird sale at the mall. His iPod was plugged into the car stereo, and his newest addition to his Kurt playlist was on.

_When a problem comes along, you must whip it. Before the cream sets out too long you must whip it. When something's going wrong, you must whip it. Now whip it!_

He so had to get one of those Devo hats. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Kilt, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Love to my reviewers!**

_Happy hump day! –Kurt_

There are many reasons one would not use their cell phone during Warblers practice. For one, Wes's gavel. It is well advised to get the extended warranty at Dalton. The gavel has never actually abused a cell phone before, but that hasn't stopped the boys from keeping their phones safely tucked away.

But even more relevantly, there is the chance that a nosey neighbor will in a moment of sheer boredom look over your shoulder and read your messages. There is then a greater chance that they will attempt to conceal their laughter and fail miserably. Thus, the recipient of the message will have to stand before his fellow Warblers and read what was so important to interrupt the meeting. It's one thing to be caught passing notes in class and having the teacher read it aloud to the class. In practice, chaos ensues.

So when Trent laughs at the newest message to appear in Blaine's inbox, Wes puts a halt to his lecture and turns directly to the pair. Suddenly, things aren't so funny.

"Happy hump day?" Wes snorts, handing Blaine his phone back.

"Is it so wrong for Kurt to wish me a happy Wednesday?" He takes the phone from the outstretched arm and texts him back. Wes blinks a few times and returns to his spot front and center.

"When two sexually frustrated boys talk about hump day, Wednesday is not the first thing to come to mind Anderson." Wes pulls at the cuffs of his jacket to smooth out the wrinkles. A few Warblers snicker.

Blaine goes to retort, but the ringing of a phone cuts him off. Wes reaches into his pocket, embarrassed that yet again his phone has gone off in practice.

"Hullo?" He pushes the speaker button and sets the phone on the table.

"This is Principal Figgins from McKinley High. It seems as though we have a slight problem." A few pairs of eyebrows furrow. The word problem never means anything good. That's why it's called a problem.

"What seems to be the matter? I sent the paperwork back with Kurt Hummel." David flips through the binder to make sure they sent the right forms. He nods his approval.

"Yes, but I recently came across some information that has made me question the integrity of your group. Therefore I am afraid that the Dalton Academy Warblers will not be playing at McKinley High Prom." Groans fill the room. And to think, they were going to go tuxedo shopping tomorrow. So much for Warbler bonding.

"Could you elaborate?" Wes asks agitated.

"Our school newspaper published an article this morning. And the newspaper never lies." Blaine looked up in disgust. Kurt had told him that Sue took over the school newspaper. Of course she'd want to ruin their lives. But why? Just because she could.

He scrawls out her name on a piece of paper and sticks it under Wes's nose. He grimaces, remembering when she punched a judge at Regionals. "Thank you sir. Have a nice day."

He doesn't wait for Figgins to answer. He simply hits the end call button and sighs out loud. Really loud, that he sounds like a chain smoker who finished running four miles.

"This sucks." Nick sulks, and the other Warblers agree.

"At least Blaine still gets to go to prom." Thad says from his position at the table. "There'll be some Warbler representation."

"I'm just Kurt's date. I'm not taking away from his big night." Blaine's phone buzzes.

_Wanna plan prom outfits tonight? –Kurt_

"You didn't get your tux yet?" Trent sounds surprised.

"Nope. Up until five minutes ago I thought I was going to be in costume." Blaine texts his acceptance to Kurt.

"All in favor of taking Blaine tuxedo shopping tomorrow raise your hand." The boys raise their hands in response to Wes. He slams down his gavel.

Blaine couldn't protest. No one messes with the law of the gavel.

"So you expect me to trust a bunch of boys in uniform to assemble a outfit for you to wear to prom?" A scarf comes flying in his direction.

"Consider it Warbler bonding. Besides, it's only a black suit. How badly could they mess that up?" Blaine plucks the scarf from the ground where it has landed and wraps it around his neck. He revels in the fact that it smells like Kurt. He smiles unabashedly when Kurt catches him.

"Don't jinx it. Now, what should I wear?" Kurt flops onto the bed next to Blaine.

"You should dress like the guy on the Old Spice commercial. You'd pull off the towel look very well." Blaine gives him a devilish grin.

"Maybe I should ask Finn." Kurt sits up for a moment, as if he is seriously about to ask his brother for fashion advice.

"Come on, you could show off those legs of yours." Blaine rubs his hand along the side seam of Kurt's deadly skinny jeans. Kurt's face lights up. And for once, it's not from the contact. Not completely anyway.

Kurt Hummel is wearing a kilt to prom.

"It's a give and take relationship with you. I give you an inch, you take a mile." Blaine rubs his temples as the boys dote over him. Wes tugs at the tie looped around his neck.

"You know you love us." He turns around and wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulders. "You're growing up so fast."

More Warblers join them in the mirror. "God Wes, if you can't handle prom, what's going to happen when he asks Kurt to marry him?" Jeff pipes up from the back of the huddle.

Wes shoots him a look in the mirror. Still, it's not nearly as threatening as a gavel to the head.

It's things like this that the Warblers count as small blessings.

"Shut up Jeff."


	13. Chapter 13

**Rain, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review!**

It was a dark and stormy night. That's how it felt. In actuality, it was pretty warm out and you could still see all the way across the parking lot. But if Kurt was writing a novel it would have been raining. Because nobody should feel like crying when it is a beautiful day outside.

The embarrassment of being voted prom queen had faded as the night drew on. Funny how an amazing boy can dance away your troubles. Blaine danced so hard that he swore his muscles would be sore in the morning. At which point Kurt offered to help stretch them out after breakfast and continued to shimmy. And since Blaine can't resist that darned kilt, he danced on.

At this point the rain in Kurt's imaginary novel would've slowed to a miraculous stop. Either that, or he would've dragged Blaine out into the parking lot and made out with him. The idea was so ridiculously cliché. Still, _The Notebook _and_ Spiderman _was right up there with _Lady and the Tramp _on Kurt's all time favorite movie kisses list. A list that had somehow become a bucket list to complete with Blaine.

Burt had agreed to letting Blaine stay the night. Granted, he had to stay on the couch. Kurt grabbed a pillow and wrapped his arms around it. If he closed his eyes he could pretend it was his boyfriend. In Kurt's novel they'd be cuddling as the rain, which he had decided would drone on quietly in the background, pelted on his window. Then a sound of thunder would crack and he'd have an excuse to cuddle closer, burying his head into the crook of his neck.

Blaine wakes the next morning to find Burt in the kitchen. He shuffles in, yanking up his sweatpants in one swift motion. Burt places a clear glass in front of him and pours in some orange juice. Kurt walks in, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. He sets it back down.

"Morning dad." He opens the freezer and pulls out a box of Eggos. Normally Kurt would spend the time to make eggs or oatmeal on the weekend. But he is dead tired and does not want to face plant it into a hot frying pan. Then he'd have egg on his face. Literally.

"French toast waffles?" Blaine mumbles around his glass. Kurt pulls out a couple and sets them on a microwave plate. He closes the microwave door behind him.

"They were bought for Finn. Don't criticize his hybrid breakfast foods." He steals Blaine's glass to finish it off. Burt gets another glass from the cupboard. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

Burt looks up from the juice he is pouring. "Last time I checked he was still asleep, mumbling about that Rachel girl." He shrugs and replaces the juice in the fridge. Blaine and Kurt exchange a look. They both remember what exactly went down last night.

The microwave beeps. Kurt pulls out the waffles to set between the two of them. He shoves two waffles across the plate with his fork. Blaine picks up his own fork and cuts off a piece.

"I apologize for mocking the waffle. It is very delicious Kurt." Blaine puts another bite in his mouth. Kurt smirks around his fork. A crash is heard from upstairs.

"I'm okay!" Finn calls down. There are a few more loud noises, most of them involving objects hitting the wall. The trio quirk their eyebrows as Finn stumbles into the kitchen.

"What was that all about?" Kurt doesn't give Finn a moment to collect his thoughts. He mozies over to the cupboard and prepares himself a bowl of cereal.

"My phone rang." He sticks a heaping spoonful of Kix in his mouth. They eye him, hoping for more of an explanation. Finn's eyes dart around, wondering why he's being stared at. He swallows his cereal. "What?"

"It sounded like a warzone up there. Who called?" Blaine asked.

"It was a wrong number." Finn relaxes and digs back into his cereal. Kurt eyes Blaine over the plate of half finished waffles.

"You tore apart your room for a wrong number?" His finger traces the rim of his juice glass. He picks it up and takes a sip.

Finn devours another spoonful of cereal. "I didn't know it was a wrong number at the time. It could've been someone important like the president."

Kurt resists the urge to tell him that he knows that he is a big fat liar, unless Rachel Berry magically became president of the United States overnight. The idea of her taking over glee club is scary enough as it is. Taking over the country is downright terrifying.

* * *

Kurt is plenty aware that he is still in his pajamas. Which is completely out of character for him considering it is already ten in the morning. But Blaine didn't bring another set of clothes besides his pajamas and Kurt would hate to make him wait around while he finds the perfect outfit to change into just to go nowhere. So here he is, propped up on his elbows, bare feet up in the air. His pants are sliding down, exposing his calves to Blaine, who is occupying the rest of the bed.

Kurt toys with the collar of Blaine's Toy Story tee shirt. He knows that it's a women's shirt. There is no way that a Woody screen tee that states _I love Cowboys _was found in the men's section. Not that Kurt has a problem with it. There's a delicious feature called the v-neck. It dips down his chest, exposing a patch of dark hairs.

"I like your shirt." He draws a finger down Woody's face, down to where he supposes Blaine's navel is. His finger pokes in further and he realizes he has found it. Aha.

"I like you." Blaine grabs at the hand playing at his belly and kisses it. Kurt blushes.

"Tell me something I don't know." His toes flex.

"You are my hero." Kurt notices as a drop of rain splatters against the window. Beads of water fall from the sky, baby puddles being born.

Blaine grabs his other hand to draw him closer. Kurt moved nearer. "That moment when you walked up on stage and took that crown like it was made for you. You got guts Kurt."

"So do you. They're digesting French toast waffles as we speak." Kurt beamed up at his boyfriend.

"You know what I meant." Blaine gives him a look and drags him even further so Kurt is sitting up on his knees. He looks him in the eyes. "I could've never done what you did."

"I did it because of you. Besides, I meant what I said about you having guts. You came to prom with me even after what happened to you in the past. That takes guts." Kurt lets his feet slide out from beneath him.

"I did it because I'm crazy about you." Blaine drops one hand to tickle Kurt's feet. He gives him a rather toothy grin.

"I'm pretty sure we already established that." Kurt tries to keep a straight face, but between the sensation at his feet and how his heart goes thumpity thump at the sight of Blaine in that Toy Story tee shirt, he breaks.

The rain begins to fall faster and the wind picks up. Kurt looks out the window and thinks back to his bucket list.

"Hey Blaine, have you ever seen _The Notebook?_"


	14. Chapter 14

**Batteries, a Glee fiction **

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review!**

Looking back, it probably wasn't the best idea to eat spicy prawns before bed last night. Normally I'm good with spicy food, but somebody didn't follow the recipe. Rather than the recommended dash of Tabasco, it was as if half the bottle was poured in. It made my eyes water. I swear, it was just the Tabasco sauce and not the movie that was playing in the background. **  
**

Toy Story does not make me cry.

But apparently spicy food and Toy Story does make me have nightmares.

I'm cleaning my room with my earbuds in my ears. I'm shaking my hips as I rearrange the dust to the musical stylings of Cee Lo. I lift a picture frame and study the picture inside. There I am with Kurt, my arms wrapped around him as he clutches onto a playbill from _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. _

While I'm absorbed in his smile, his being Kurt's and not Daniel Radcliffe's, I fail to notice that I am not alone. Two ridiculously tall characters approach from behind. My music is too loud to hear the tapping of space boots and spurs along the floor. A finger taps me on the shoulder.

I pull out my earbuds and turn around. Nobody is there. I turn back around.

"Boo." I jump about a foot in the air. I realized later that even when I jumped I still managed to be shorter than my predators. Predators being Woody and Buzz from Toy Story, who are bowled over laughing at me.

I failed to find the humor in this.

Through gasps for air they make fun of my reaction. They don't accomplish much and leave me alone.

My dilated pupils shrink back to their normal size. Placing my earbuds back in my ears I finish cleaning my room.

I enter the kitchen looking for some lunch. Nobody is home and I decide to make a turkey sandwich. I'm spreading on my condiments when a voice appears at my side.

"Can my sandwich have pickles on it?" I spin around to find no one there. I'm starting to feel paranoid. I return to my sandwich to find Woody already half through with it.

"You're right Buzz. Definitely needed pickles." I point my knife at them, trying to defend myself. Good job Blaine. Go and defend yourself with a butter knife. That'll really protect you.

"Aw, you frightened him. Now he won't make us more sandwiches." Sure, they can frighten me when I'm cleaning, but when there's food involved they play nice. And to make matters worse, I'm out of pickles.

Buzz walks away not frightened and sticks his head in my fridge. "Any pickles in there?" Woody calls over my shoulder.

"Negative." He opens the freezer. "But I have found ice cream sandwiches."

He pulls two out of the package and passes one too Woody. "Oh I do look sandwiches. Especially of the ice cream variety."

Maybe if I fold myself up small enough I can fit in the freezer and defrost when these two leave.

They make a mess of themselves and leave to wash themselves up.

I'm making a new sandwich when I hear footsteps coming from behind. I promise myself this time I will not jump or use a utensil as a weapon.

I did not however promise myself not to let out a girly scream when a very determined looking Woody and Buzz approach me with waxing strips aimed at my face.

"Blaine, we're here to help. Those triangles have got to go." Buzz pushes my back against the counter.

"Two triangles make a square Blaine. And I don't think Kurt wants to date a square." My heart sinks. I'm not sure why. I mean, I told him I love you and he said it back. And I know he meant it, because he paused. It wasn't one of those automatic responses where you're saying it just because I did. Plus, he said he was having a pretty good year, and we've known each other for a while now. Which explains why my year has been pretty good too.

Then all of a sudden he karate chops Woody and Buzz for me and my eyebrows and I breath a sigh of relief.

Actually, it was at that point I woke up. He received a call five minutes later asking to meet for coffee before school.

He giggled at me as I retold my story over medium drips.

"See this is what happens when you watch too much Disney. You start thinking everyone around you is a toy." Kurt grabbed my hand from across the table and ran his thumb along the course of my thumb and forefinger.

"You're not a toy, are you?" I teased.

"How about you come over tonight and search me for my battery pack?" Kurt coyly smiled, getting up to leave. I followed behind, walking to the parking lot. I stood back a few steps to admire that extra spring in his step.

When did baby penguins become so hot?


	15. Chapter 15

**Rainbow, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Remember to review!**

I burst into the Hudmel kitchen with such excitement he nearly ran into Carole. On any other day I would have stopped to apologize for being in the way. Today however I was headed straight towards Kurt who was stirring something in a pot he had taken off the stove.

I twisted him around and kissed him. Hard.

"Well hello to you too." Kurt, despite his yearning to forget about the pot and remind me of one of the many reasons I so desperately love him returned his attention to the pot. Carole slipped out of the room. My arm slipped around Kurt's waist.

"Aren't you excited? They finally set the record straight." I grabbed a hold of Kurt's hand and helped him stir.

"Actually they set the record gay. Hence the rainbow treats." Kurt pulled the wooden spoon out of the pot to reveal a mess of marshmallows and Trix cereal. He used it to point to an already cool batch on the counter next to him.

I blushed and buried my face in the crook of Kurt's neck. "Very appropriate. Who are they for?"

Finn emerged into the room. "Dude, I tried calling Blaine but- oh never mind. I see you found him." He swiped a treat from the plate.

"Finn, not until the party." He started to pour the mixture into a clean pan. I held it steady for him.

"Fine." He whimpered like a defeated puppy. Or what should have sounded like a defeated puppy, had he not stuffed the remainder of the treat in his mouth. He looked like a chipmunk.

"What party?" I asked, curiosity piqued. I noticed a receipt on the countertop. _Balloons, Rainbow Goldfish, Trix, marshmallows, Skittles, Diet Coke..._ It looked like Kurt was celebrating New York passing gay marriage without me.

"Our party. You are the guest of honor after all." He scrubbed at the residual marshmallow in the pot. "I asked Finn to call everyone so I could help make food with Carole, but _somebody _didn't answer his cell phone."

I glanced past him to see Burt leering in the doorway. "I'm sorry I did not answer the phone while driving. But if I can avoid colliding with another car by not answering your calls I'm going to do it. I love you too much to risk it." Kurt stopped scrubbing to envelop me in a hug. I peered over his shoulder to see his father smiling approvingly. He waited until we separated before speaking up.

"We need a good pair of lungs to help blow up a few balloons. I think Finn's going to pass out if he has to blow anymore." I shrugged and followed him out into the living room. Kurt's taught me many things since we started going out. Maximum lung capacity is one of them. Practice does make almost perfect after all.

I blew up the rest of the balloons with Burt's help. Carole wandered out from the kitchen, wiping her hands clean on a dishrag. "We finished setting up the food. Looks like you boys got the balloons taken care of."

Kurt came out behind her. "This aught to be amusing." He dragged behind him a mesh bag to store the balloons in.

"Wait, these aren't decorations for the party?" I plucked a pink one from the pile at our feet and stuffed it in the bag.

Kurt smiled deviously.

:

"Dude, if you wanted to celebrate gay marriage, shouldn't we have had this party late last night with some drinks under the moonlight?" Puck picked up a handful of Skittles. It was noon, on a Saturday. He had to wake up early on a weekend. A summer vacation weekend. But hey, Kurt was his friend and he was offering free food. He wasn't about to turn that down.

Santana sauntered across the backyard, pinkies linked with Brittany. She was wearing a rainbow bikini top. She said she was showing her support for Kurt.

I know that's not the only person she was showing her support for. And no, I'm not talking about myself.

Kurt joined my side and clapped his hands. "New Directions and Warblers, if I may have your attention." Wes averted his eyes from Santana's body and pulled at his tee shirt.

Kurt's hand plunged into his pocket and he pulled out what appeared to be a colored metal coil. He ordered me to put my wrist out. I obeyed.

I felt a slap to my wrist and looked down. _OMG! A DOUBLE RAINBOW _my wrist read. I heard another slap and looked at Kurt's wrist. He was wearing the same bracelet. He held our arms up for our audience to see. "This is my promise to Blaine Warbler Anderson that we will forever be the double rainbow and one day get married in New York."

The crowd clapped and made both proper and improper remarks to his proposal. I ran my fingers across the rainbows and let their hollering fade into the background.

Kurt tasted like Diet Coke.

:

The bag of balloons from last night were brought out. Carole explained the object of the game as she passed them out to the members of New Directions. "The game is simple. Anyone that doesn't have a balloon partners up with someone who has one. Last team with a balloon unpopped is on cleanup duty."

I sauntered over to Kurt who was holding onto a yellow balloon. This was going to be very amusing.

Wes and Santana were the first to get their balloon popped. He seemed pleased with himself. I'm not sure if it's because he wasn't on cleanup duty or if it's because he was actually that close to her.

Jeff and Sam were attempting to stomp on the balloon but it kept escaping from underneath their feet. Mercedes and David tried smothering it in a death hug.

Our balloon popped soon after. I didn't let go as the yellow remains fell to our feet. I was still pulling Kurt closer to my body. And he wasn't stopping me.

"The balloon seems to have popped." He turns his head over to Brittany who is trying to pop Trent's balloon.

"Hey Brit, need some help?" She nodded eagerly and he took the purple balloon from her. "Now, where were we?"

:

"Well technically, we _did _have the last unpopped balloon." Kurt tied the garbage bag closed. We had lost the game and were stuck on cleanup duty. Finn sipped at the last of the Diet Coke from the cool and shade of the air conditioned house.

"It was worth it." I shrugged, bringing the almost empty dishes into the house. I relished the cool air. The backyard had gotten hot and humid fast with so many teenage bodies dancing and celebrating in one compact place.

"I'm glad you like your bracelet." He set the dishes in the sink. He turned on the water and Carole walked in.

"Don't worry boys, I'll take it from here." She pulled out the dish detergent and got to work. We went to Kurt's room.

"I only wish that I had thought of it first. Promise bracelets were a very good idea. Promise rings are so overdone." I closed the door some and sat next to him. "I can't wait until we go to New York and you'll introduce me as your awesome husband in all of your fashion shows. What are you going to name your company?"

"How about Hummel? I want the world to know my name." He made an over exaggerated wave of his hands.

"Sorry to burst your bubble honey, but I'm afraid a bunch of chubby faced figurines already took that name." He shook his head and thought for a minute.

"How about _Warbler Love? _Y'know, because you're a Warbler and I love you?" The edges of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"We've got plenty of time to think about it." Not forever, but we've got time. One day I'll be at the end of that runway line with a velvet box in my pocket. And I'll propose. But this time there won't be any slapping.

At least, not on the runway. I can't make any promises for what happens back in the apartment.


	16. Chapter 16

**Paddleball, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Leave a review!**

Somewhere in the Hudmel house there is a thin line, so thin it must have been made with a very pointy pencil. But that implies that it is erasable. Therefore we must assume that it was made with an eraser-less pencil or a fine tip pen. Like one of those expensive calligraphy pens. Apparently I have crossed said line. I thought Finn was cool with me dating his brother. We rocked out at prom like friends. But now he's sitting across from me with a serious look in his eye. It's kind of creeping me out.

And by kind of, I mean completely and utterly making me want to run away screaming with my fingers crammed in my ears. Except the door is closed and I wouldn't be able to open it without my hands. Even if I did, my elbows would collide with the door frame. Plus it's not like I want to go back out in this heat. First I'd need to find my sunglasses (which are currently perched on top of Kurt's head), apply some sun block (to assure the only way I'm turning red is when someone makes a perverted comment about Kurt) and buy a portable cooling device (i.e. battery operated hand fan) to stay cool.

That is way too much work when the guy I want is in the kitchen getting us two Diet Cokes. So I watch Finn as he strokes his paddleball like a villain with a cat. I swallow hard and lose the gum Kurt and I were sharing.

Drat, he really liked that flavor.

"Blaine, do you have any idea what this is?" He bounced the ball a few times.

"A paddleball?" He had just come home from the bowling alley with Rachel. He won it from one of the arcade machines. I could tell because his breath reeked of pepperoni pizza. That, and Kurt had called me earlier telling me about their plans.

That's when I came over and got caught making out with Kurt. Burt and Carole were at work and we didn't think twice about lounging on the couch, trying to soak up some of the cold air coming from the oscillating fan. I'd love to revel in my memories now, but Finn keeps talking.

"No, it's the paddleball of _doom._" He hits the ball so it nears my nose. I pull back a few inches, the couch squeaking as my body attempts to get unstuck. The string snaps it back and falls limp.

Kurt walks into the room, Diet Coke in each hand and sets himself down next to me. "Finn, why are you threatening my boyfriend with the paddleball of doom?" His voice sounds sarcastic and dry. He pops open the can and takes a drink.

"He looked like he was trying to extract your teeth with his mouth. And I'm pretty sure he's no dentist. No guy is going to defile my brother on my clock." Finn crosses his arms. The paddleball drops to the ground.

"Don't you mean not on your watch?" Kurt leans into my side.

"But I'm not wearing a watch." Finn shows us his wrists to prove his point. Kurt sighs and drops the question.

"So you were okay when I told your brother than I love him," he squirms happily at my side when I say this, "but I can't do anything more physical than holding his hand?" I pick up the paddleball of doom. It is sturdy for a crane game toy. Perfect for spanking. Not that I'd ever use it on Kurt. Unless he wanted me to.

"Doesn't mean I want to see my brother getting it on where I sit to watch the football game. Next time they scream _touchdown!_ all I'll think about is your touchdown with him." He swipes the toy back from me.

"Finn, the only thing that was on was my lips on his. Oh, and my hands were on his hair, but if you want to be more technical they were tangled in his hair. His hands were grasping around my butt, not really on my butt. So I don't see how you could possibly think we were getting anything on." Kurt smiles smugly. I take a sip of my drink to disguise the smile I feel growing on my face.

"Why'd you have to do that?" Now Finn's the uncomfortable one. It was bad enough for him to walk in on it, now he had heard it, in detail. Maybe we should convince Rachel to do something to erase it from his mind. I just hope we don't walk in on them. Who knows how much farther they'd go than us.

"You hogged the AC yesterday afternoon. It was hot and all I had was a box of sugar free popsicles. I had cherry dripping down my face. It almost got on my shirt." Kurt smoothes the front of his shirt that I wrinkled. I ignore all thoughts about Kurt and popsicles by chugging down a large portion of my soda.

"Well, if we bought those squirt guns that I wanted we could have a water war." I perk up at the idea of Kurt in swim trunk, being chased across the yard. Goodbye popsicle fantasies, hello swim trunk realities.

"If I may intervene, I might have a solution." I jiggle my car keys. "Boys, come with me." They follow me to my car. We travel to my house and Finn wakes from his nap in the backseat when I pull into the driveway.

I lead them to the backyard, where the sprinklers are running. Finn pulls off his shirt and races through the water. I lean over to whisper to Kurt. He instead takes the opportunity to yank my shirt off and toss it by Finn's. Finn is too jubilant to notice. Or if he does notice, he doesn't seem to care. Besides, I made sure he left his paddleball of doom at home, so I could hypothetically rake my tongue all over Kurt's torso if I wanted to. Except he's still wearing his shirt and the taste of fabric across your tongue isn't a pleasant one. He peels it off his body and tosses it. I save my fantasies for a later more private setting and grab his hand. We run to the sprinklers.

To think, I was going to tell them about the squirt guns my cousins had left here. Oh well, there is one perk to sprinklers over squirt guns. I still get to hold Kurt's hand.

Even if it is a little sweaty.


	17. Chapter 17

**Massage, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Thanks for all the reviews!**

The peculiarities of Finn Hudson never cease to amaze the people around him. He's a bit slow on the uptake. He's smarter than Brit, smart enough to plan on graduating next year. But there are some moments when Kurt and Blaine wonder how thick he could be.

Two weeks ago he was eating a purple popsicle on the couch. Then he stopped in mid-lick and turned to his brother and Blaine.

"Do you think they make momsicles? Or are those double popsicles like when they fall in love and get married?"

Two days later he threatened Blaine with a paddleball.

Last Tuesday he went to the store with Kurt to pick up Burt's medicine. Through the window he saw a display for Poptarts, buy one, get one free. In his excitement he raced for the door and walked straight into it.

It was an automatically opening door.

He had spent the weekend at Mike's ultimate gaming marathon. All the boys from New Directions under the Chang roof, battling it out over Super Mario Brothers. Kurt and Blaine took advantage of their time alone at the house. With Finn gaming, and the parents running weekend errands nobody was there to hear any noises or see any sights. This pleased the boys very much.

Sunday afternoon Finn called. Kurt fumbled for his phone. Picking it up, he tried not to giggle as Blaine teased his neck. One giggle passed over the line and Finn asked if he was interrupting anything. He glared at his boyfriend. He made up some lame excuse about Blaine telling a funny joke. He answered his question and hung up.

Sometimes Finn could be pretty clueless.

It was late Monday morning. Blaine and Kurt were up in his room. Kurt's shirt was off, the door open. He squeezed the cream onto the palm of his hand. He rubbed the cream along his spine. Blaine was positioned above Kurt. Straddling his body, his fingers circulated around, spreading the cream. Finn walked by and did a double take.

"Dude, what are you doing to my brother?" He barged in, crossing his arms across his chest. Blaine stood. He handed him the tube.

"Applying Bengay. He asked me to." He scrubbed his hands clean with a towel. Finn studied the tube for a second and threw it down.

"Why would he have been gay? Isn't he still gay? You're not trying to make my brother _straight _are you?" Finn walked over to Kurt. He took the shirt from his hands and threw it down with the Bengay. "Kurt, we need to wash this stuff off before it takes its effects."

Kurt scoffed. He bent down to pick up his shirt and pulled it on. "Finn, you are an idiot."

Blaine laughed at how blatant he was. This was going to be interesting. With the two of them it always was.

"I'm in love with your brother. Why on earth would I make him straight?" His heart fluttered. He had told Kurt he loved him. He had reminded him on several occasions. But he had never told him he was _in_ love with him. Two simple letters made a world's difference.

Finn blushed. It was getting a bit awkward in the room. He picked the tube off the ground and flipped it over to read the uses. "So this stuff relieves muscle aches? You should've said so. I didn't know you were hurting. What'd you do all this weekend?"

Blaine and Kurt shared a look. Neither wanted to be the one to admit to Finn what had gone on behind closed doors. Not that either was ashamed by it. It's just there was no way to tell him without permanently scarring him. It'd be like Finn explaining his Rachel fantasies to Kurt. Without the fingers in his ears. He's had a few close calls, and it isn't fun.

"We were practicing advanced yoga. I guess I should've stretched more." Kurt shrugged. He motioned for Blaine to take his shirt off and lie on the bed. Finn left.

"I happen to have an excellent teacher." Blaine moaned into the bed. Kurt's fingers worked at the knots in his back. His fingers swept over a faded scar, trying not to cringe at the sight. He was an expert on scars, and that one looked like it had hurt. A lot.

"A teacher is only as good as their student." He purred into his ear. He watched as the goosebumps popped up. Their phones buzzed simultaneously. Kurt wiped his hands on the towel.

He opened the text message to find it was from Nick and Jeff.

_Wes and Gavel or Wes and David? Vote now._

Kurt glanced to Blaine, who was also checking his phone. He quickly typed in _gavel _and sent it. He waited until Blaine tugged his shirt back on.

"I wasn't aware that Wes had his own love triangle going on. And I thought New Directions had relationship problems." Blaine encased Kurt's hand in his own.

"Well, Wes already has a girlfriend. Nick and Jeff just don't think two people can be best friends without it being something more. Like how they insisted that we belong together." Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "Which they were completely right about."

Kurt smiled. His head cozied into the crook of his neck. It was ironic. Nick and Jeff were best friends, the infamous agents 3 and 6. Love doctors of Dalton. "If that's true, then those two would be together."

Blaine pondered it and pulled Kurt's phone out from his pocket. They exchanged some tacit words. Kurt created a new message.

_Nick and Jeff: Best friends or more? _

With one click the message was off to the Warbler community, minus Jeff and Nick.

Blaine was going to miss Dalton.

But there was no way he was going to miss the look on Kurt's face when he found out he's transferring.

Now if only he could find a song to audition with while serenading Kurt at the same time.

Would it be too tacky to do _Teenage Dream _again?


	18. Chapter 18

**Flamingo, a Glee fiction**

**I do not own Glee. Correlates with Purple Piano Project. Please leave a review!**

Blaine entered the commons room and shut the door. The Warblers, although he was a good ten minutes late, were still making small talk. Topic of the day?

Flamingos.

More specifically, why do flamingos stand on one leg.

Wes sat in his usual spot, gavel at the ready. He noticed Blaine's entrance and called him over.

"Perhaps you could settle a little debate we're having." He banged his gavel to gather their attention, cutting off any chance he had to turn him down. The group quit their bickering. "Each of you will state your case and then we will decide who is right."

Trent groaned in frustration. He knew he was right. The boys took their seats, some sitting down on the floor. Wes motioned for Trent to begin. He straightened his tie and stood.

"Well, I think they do it to conserve heat and energy. Minimized surface area, only using half the brain. It makes sense." He sat back down.

Wes, who was keen on using logic liked the idea. He was probably right. He had been his partner for their biome project and Trent had known all about the flora and fauna. Then again, he had done his research. There was nobody to say he hadn't researched flamingos in his free time. Not that there was any particular reason he should. He stopped overanalyzing Trent's possible secret worship of flamingos and decided it was someone else's turn.

Thad stepped out from behind the council desk. "It's pretty obvious they do it for camouflage. Helps them capture their prey."

One of the Warblers raised his hand. "What do flamingos eat?"

Thad uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. He leaned back into his _I know it all _pose. "Shrimp, mollusk and algae."

"Algae have eyes?" He asked. Thad shrugged, unphased.

"They must not be pretty good if they believe in bright pink trees." David argued. Thad whipped around to halt the high fiving in process.

"Then what do you think? Share with us the magic behind the one legged stance." He leaned in to meet David's face. He accepted the challenge.

He brushed his shirt off and opened up to his audience. "Remember how at Wes's pool party he stayed in the pool too long and his skin got all pruny?" They all laughed at the memories of stolen Spongebob swim trunks and pool party mischief.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Wes gripped his gavel tightly.

"How pruny would a flamingo's foot be if it was in water all day? He probably dries it off." He gave a pointed glare to Thad. Almost as if to say, _ha, my stupid idea was slightly less stupid than your pink tree idea. _Thad shook his head at him. He wasn't satisfied.

"Because we all want mismatched pruny feet. One all shriveled and one not." Nick commented from his seat across Jeff's lap. If you asked him, he'd say there was limited seating. There was room on Jeff's lap and he was his best friend. Plus it was more comfortable. After all, who doesn't like to sit on a cute boy's lap? He wouldn't admit that out loud, but certain summer events lead the Warblers to believe something more was going on.

"Enlighten us boys." David took a seat. Jeff pushed Nick off to the ground. He landed with a thud.

"As you can see," Jeff started as he gained balance on one leg, "with half of your legs down you have half the risk of a duck ramming into you." Nick waddled over to demonstrate.

"Because all ducks are brave enough to run toward a mob of flamingos." Randy knelt down to pat Nick on the head. "Such a brave duck."

Nick got back on his feet. "Jeff's about as scary as a puppy."

Jeff lowered his leg to the ground. He came closer to Nick, just missing stepping on his toes. He looked him dead in the eyes. "How about now?"

Blaine faked a cough and they separated. "Why are we arguing about flamingos?" Here he was coming from the office to tell the guys he was leaving and he had spent the past ten minutes studying legs.

And they weren't Kurt's.

"We were waiting for you and somebody," he took a moment to eyeball David, "mentioned it. Where were you anyway?"

"I finished my transfer papers. I'm officially going to be at McKinley tomorrow." Blaine studied his feet. It was hard to leave his friends. It was harder to stay apart from Kurt.

"First Warbler meeting of the year and you're quitting. You were going to replace us in council this year. We were going to coronate you today before heading back to college." Thad turned to Blaine.

"He finally convinced you?" David made his eyes rise back up to meet his. To think he had brought party hats.

"I need to face my past and stand up for myself. And yes, I do want to be with Kurt." A few of the boys cat called and wolf whistled.

"You better keep in touch." Thad said. "That's an order, straight from the council."

"I thought your council powers expired when you graduated." Nick called from his seat back on Jeff's lap.

"It's not over until the fat lady sings." Thad defended.

"It's an all boys school." The Warblers murmured in agreement with Randy.

"Let's go see if the lunch lady is still here!" Jeff jolted. Nick held onto the arm of the couch this time and kept his balance.

"I was going to make you a council member." Thad gasped in shock. Wes banged his gavel yet again to stop the commotion.

Blaine smiled sadly. Arms enveloped him in a hug. "I look forward to Regionals. You guys are tough to beat." He headed to the door.

"We're going to miss you Blaine Warbler." Wes called out.

Blaine turned around. "Don't you mean Anderson?"

Wes stretched an arm out to reach him. "Once a Warbler, always a Warbler. Even if you join a show choir in college or at our rival school."

Blaine sniffled. "The rival show choir that you invited over for pizza and swimming? Yes, they really seem like a dangerous group." He let a low laugh escape his lips.

He took his leave, a chorus of goodbyes followed him. The door shut behind him. The room was taken over by a short silence.

As he made his way outside he noticed an array of noses pressed against the window. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped to check it.

_Wish you were here to see the purple pianos. –Kurt_

David took the opportunity to take a quick poll. "All those in favor of kidnapping Blaine for party hats and impromptu singing before this year's auditions start?" The lot of hands went up.

As soon as his phone was tucked into his pocket it buzzed again. He took it out.

_Can you wait to transfer until after cake and impromptu jamming? _

He looked up to the window. Noses were replaced by hopeful eyes watching him read his message. He turned on his heel and headed back in.

"Somebody mentioned cake?" David broke out the box of party hats and Wes went to retrieve the cake.

Things can change. It's a fact of life. We try not to dwell on the past for too long. It's nice to see the memories, how far we've come. We look to the future to see where we're going. We can guess and pray, but there is never a guarantee. He has all of their phone numbers. He plans to keep in contact. And he will, because he promised he will.

But it's unhealthy to focus too hard on the future. There's a time called here and now. His musical brethren singing carelessly arranged tunes, cake coming through the doorway. It's in the here and now that we experience this thing called life.

It's a beautiful gift, and Blaine wouldn't trade it for the world.

After all, what more could a boy want?


End file.
